


A Field of Swords

by drunkdragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: AU, Multi, Reverse-Soulmate kinda, other ships to be added as more chapters are done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-07-24 22:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16184477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkdragon/pseuds/drunkdragon
Summary: It's been said that when two hunters decide that they will live and struggle through life together, whether as friends or lovers or even greater, something magical happens. Sometimes, just sometimes, they are taken to a shared dream, to a meadow of countless blades. And they select a weapon together, forming an unbreakable bond.Chapters will be dedicated to individual ships and may or may not be related to one another.





	1. Bumblebee

Blake tells Yang to sleep first, something about needing more time to let her body recover. She’ll be okay with taking first watch in case they’re ambushed. Before she goes silent for the night, though, Yang opens her mouth to speak. Her voice is firm, unlike the rest of her battered body. “Okay. But promise me that you’ll wake me up. No matter what. You have to rest too if we’re going to get through this.”

Blake shivers in the cold, slides her shoulder up against her, and just gives a furtive nod. The way her partner looks at her lets the both of them know that it isn’t true. But Yang doesn’t say anything. Just huffs, nods her head, and closes her eyes, her back against the wide tree trunk. Her head softly slings onto Blake’s shoulder.

The whole mission has become a mess. The other team they were supposed to meet up with never made it to the rendezvous point, and so they had to plan the defense of the small village with just the two of them. A head-on fight was not impossible, but would be taxing. And if they failed, that would only leave the village further exposed. With only her and Yang it would be wiser to redirect the Grimm elsewhere, to change their path so that they might simply pass them by.

That plan went south on the third day. The pack of grimm moved faster than expected and surprised them at their makeshift camp. So began a long day of moving and fighting, moving and fighting. Retreat and attack.

It wasn’t the worst that they’ve been through, but it’s certainly up there. Blake’s whole body aches, and the meager food supplies they grabbed in the rush feel like a long lost memory. She has to last until tomorrow morning where they can eat the next set of the rations and then head back to their camp and see what can be salvaged. Then they’d make their way back to the village. And the cold, this goddamn ice and snow-

Her ears tuck down against her head to help conserve heat. It’s a miracle that the ground around the old tree remained dry. For once she’s thankful for long hair, and she has a hunch Yang probably is, too. It’s not the first time they’ve sidled along next to each other for any reason, and not likely to be the last.

The fire in front of them is nearly dead. She should step up to put in more kindling and another log or two. But she hesitates knowing that she has to get up from this spot, away from the warmth that Yang’s resting body would offer to her. Finally she does, regretting every step as her body protests and the harsh cold bites into her frame. But the deed is done and the flame slowly invigorates. It’s nice, but she quickly takes her place next to Yang again. Her head droops down towards her chest. That’ll be a pain in the neck tomorrow, but that’s a problem for just that - tomorrow.

And then it clicks for Blake. Tonight, huddled in front of a dying fire, starving for something to put in her stomach, her body aching for rest, tonight is the last straw. She doesn’t want Yang to be some weird gray area in her life anymore. They’ve always known in a sense. But it’ll be official from here.

Tomorrow, when Blake wakes up, she’ll tell her.

Her eyes cast around one last time, and then gaze into the fire. She should get up again, to try and force herself to stay awake.

Hopefully the other team just got lost.

“We’re going to get through this. Together,” she says to no one in particular.

Not even minutes later, Blake falls asleep.

* * *

Her boots step down upon a lush green field. It’s, with bright stars twinkling from above. But the place seems brighter than it should be for the time of day. Perhaps still that twilight period, where the sun just set and the moon yet to fully shine.

“Oh, what about this one?”

Yang is already looking at the weapons on the field. All around the two of them are rows and rows of armaments. Infinite colors, infinite types. As far as their eyes can see, it’s just blades and spears and guns and bigger guns and everything else they could think of.

“That could work.”

“ _ Blaaaaake _ ,” her voice takes on that mildly annoyed tone again, but it’s still playful, “you said that for the last one, too!”

She should try to pay more attention. But something in the cool evening air fills her with a sense of ease and joy. She hates to equate Yang to a child, but it’s like she’s in a candy store, and-

“Oh, this one. This one. For sure.” Her blonde hair whips as her head twirls to face her as she beckons her over. “It’s this one.” Yang has the widest smile on her face. It’s the same one from all the way back when they first met and were in Beacon. Before the world went to shit and they had to put it back together again.

She wouldn’t trade the world for it.

Finally, though, she glances at the weapon that Yang picked out. It’s little more than an elegant dagger, probably for ceremonial or show purposes than actual combat. She thinks that there might be a hidden trigger in the ivory hilt, but when she takes it and holds it in her hands, there’s nothing fancy within it.

Sometimes what you see is what you get.

“I thought you’d pick something more… pronounced.”

“Oh come on.” Yang steps closer and slings an arm around her shoulder. “I’m allowed to be poetic every once in a while, right?”

Her brow picks up. “Can you explain what this means then?”

“Well…” she licks and folds her lips, maybe to buy time. “I mean, to me, love is simple. You either love them or you don’t. You make a choice and go with it. And this dagger is just that. Simple.”

There’s nothing to overthink, and Blake smiles in the end.

* * *

The two of them wake up to a crackling flame and a blanket around her shoulders. Her amber eyes blink, bloodshot and tired, but she registers the smell of coffee. Blake prefers tea, but after enough time in the field she’s learned to deal with it.

“Hey! Looks like you’re up,” some jovial voice calls out. She recognizes it as the male voice of a hunter from the other team, the one that thankfully only got lost. “Sorry to leave you two hanging. The weather kept us from getting here on time. But we got a few extra hands to help us out.”

There’s a pan of eggs and bacon and sausages and beans and dear gods she can’t focus on anything else.

Yang stirs awake, “Is… Issat bacon?”

There’s another laugh, “Go on, eat up. You two deserve it.”

The dagger fades from her mind as she devours the food. When she’s had her fill and Yang is going for a second plate, she finds out that the two of them are free to return to the village and pick up their share of the pay. The rest of the operation is planned to go smoothly and they should return for a proper night of rest. They give them the location of their camp so that the new team can pick up any food supplies they might need. They'll stop by later to salvage any camp gear that's still usable.

On the way back, she tells Yang everything. How she’s felt, how she feels, and how she wants to be together, and the other just nods. Maybe the whole of it will collapse on them tomorrow, the weight of the words still unknown. But it feels good. At least for now, because there's a smile on Yang's face, one that's deeply familiar and pleasant, worth everything in the world to her.

And when they make it back to the village, they see a little boy, no more than a few years old. He’s an orphan with brown hair, kicking around a worn-out ball. They’ve seen him around before, in that same ivory sweater that he’s bound to outgrow in a few months.

Yang pauses before letting go of her hand. With a playful smirk, she jogs up and engages him in a small game and calls out to her to join in.

Blake doesn't remember the fields. She doesn't remember the night sky, doesn't quite remember what Yang said. Not yet, at least.

But she remembers the dagger. Both of them do.

They adopt him.


	2. Qrowin

“Have you ever thought about all this, Winter?”

She’s just a few months past thirty when Qrow asks the question. She knows that he's a few days shy of his starting his mid-forties.

Maybe that's why he asks. Maybe that's why she finds herself thinking about it for longer than she ever thought possible.

She rolls over, away from him and making sure that she keeps the blanket over her bare shoulder. He’s already seen it and more tonight, but the sense of decency feels safe, secure.

He chuckles, but it’s mostly empty. “I know you're awake, Winter.”

Of course she's thought about it. Every time she seeks him out in the usual bar, every time she sees his bird form land on a nearby post, every time she wakes up with him in the same bed, she thinks about it.

She wonders if she should lie about it. But she recalls her father, and- “It’s impossible not to.”

He sighs. “We’ve been at it for what, four years now?” Has it really been that long, now? Beacon, Salem, it all passed by so quickly. “What are we even?”

He knows her favorite drink. He knows what she likes in bed.

Likewise, Winter knows the same for him. And when they’re called to the battlefield, she’ll never admit it but he’s the person she wants at her side. Everyone else just can’t keep up with the pace she set.

She hates that she’s so dependent on him. She’s afraid of what it means, what it could lead to. She’s seen it before and swears that she won’t become like that, never again. But it’s so heavy, sometimes. And whether by chance or by fate, he’s just always there. 

Qrow’s a sign of her weakness. Maybe she’s his. Winter should hate it all, and maybe she did at first.

“I can’t tell.”

It used to just be a quick fuck back then, in a cheap motel or an empty forest. Now it was drinks and dinner, a warm shower at a better (but still cheap) motel. Now it was a third or fourth orgasm.

There’s a silence. A weight rests against her shoulder and she stiffens at first. But it’s just his hand on the blanket, giving her a soft pat. It’s nice. “Well…” he pauses. It’s not unusual, but the topic has put her on edge ever since he started it. “Is this all you want?”

In the end, probably not. She’s still a soldier, but she can’t fight forever, after all.

“I suppose we can try to establish... something.”

“... Alright then. Maybe I’ll get to see you in the morning.”

She decides to give it a try, but just for a little while. She’ll watch him like a hawk. One misstep and she swears it’ll be over. Qrow might be a bit more forgiving if she screws up somehow, but she wouldn’t hold her breath over it. Taking the time to do things the right way doesn’t seem to be his style.

So she’ll take the conservative approach. She has patience, just maybe not… not for… just...

* * *

It’s beautiful. She’s seen a few serene landscapes in her lifetime, and this is just as beautiful. The green meadow is just perfect. The sky is clear and the moon bright. The sun has just disappeared under the horizon, giving everything that orange-blue glow, one that she expects to quickly fade to purple.

Winter’s heart stops in its tracks. “Oh no.”

She’s heard about this field before, known only in the dreams of hunters, She’s afraid that this means it would work. That they’d have some kind of shot at a future together.

This can’t be real. Not with  _ him _ . Not just after they’ve barely had a conversation that didn’t even have a true answer.

He looks up from a sword in the field, his hand resting on the top of the handle. “It can’t be that bad, can it?”

“You and me- we can’t- how-”

“Come on, Winter.” His voice is slow. “I was the one that brought up the question. Did you think I would ask if I didn’t mean it? After all we’ve been through?”

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. When she opens them up, they’re still at the field. She slows down a little, her heart feels calm again. “It’s just… sudden.”

His red eyes meet hers, just like the countless times before. “Does it scare you?”

She wants to lie again, and the image of her father rears its head once more. “Honestly, Qrow, it does.”

He nods his head. “It’s natural. A friend once told me that in a relationship, any relationship, you’re always scared. You’re scared you’ve screwed up, scared that it’ll only ever be once and never again. And even after it’s all ‘set’, you’re still scared. But there’s an opportunity for something unreal. That’s why we forge bonds with people.”

Her own relationships outside of Weiss were spotty at best. Even work relations are just that - for work. And Qrow is someone she’s struggled to consistently define for the longest time. He varied between troublesome, convenient, and a comrade-in-arms for so long that it was never a clear answer.

But he was consistent. He was always there for an unexplainable reason.

“I’d hardly call myself a loner, but I feel like there’s more out there. I’d…” his voice fell away for a moment, “I’d like to see what that is. So if you would accept, to try and see more in this life of ours, well… here.”

He pulls out the blade he’s been admiring and hands it to her. It’s a double-edged blade, coal-black on one side and crystal blue on the other. Aside from the silver highlights on its crossguard, it looks plain and ordinary. Simple, yet elegant. Easy to maintain, but no less deadly. The colors clash in a sense. It’s not a bad pairing, but if one was just a shade brighter or the other darker then they might be perfect for each other.

That’s not what draws her in at the end, though. Upon first glance, it looks like the two colors are from different pieces of metal. But if she looks at the craftsmanship, everything is perfectly cut and hammered from one piece. Or perhaps they were smelted together at the junctions, becoming an alloy at the points where they met but retaining their own separate sides.

There’s a sharp contrast - one for him, one for her, and somehow joined in the middle with the strange madness that is their relationship. Somehow, it works.

She chooses to accept his choice.

* * *

When she wakes up and she doesn’t struggle free from Qrow’s sleepy embrace like usual, she’s scared of what this relationship will look like.

When she’s walking down the aisle, with Weiss at her side to hand her off in the place of the rest of her absent family, she’s scared of what their marriage will look like.

And when their daughter is born, with Qrow’s coal-black hair and those crystal blue eyes, Winter finds that he was right. She’s still scared, but she doesn't know how she could be any happier.


End file.
